The History of the Count
by Sengen
Summary: Ever wonder what Camus' life was like before he came to Japan? What his family was like? Why he was so close to the Queen? Everyone simply assumed he was a pampered rich boy who came from a made-up land and was eagerly served by his countless maids and butlers; but maybe there was something darker about his upbringing. Something the Count wouldn't dare tell another soul.
1. Author's Note & Prologue

_**(A/N) **_

_Okay guys, so this thing came to me and just demanded I write it down. To me, Camus is a character with a ridiculously vague past. We don't really know that much about him outside of him being from Permafrost, and that he serves under the Queen with unwavering loyalty. When I started thinking, I began wondering why Camus – who admitted to not wanting to form any sort of special bond outside of 'professional means' – would so readily brag about this one woman. So, I decided to make my thoughts on the matter into a short story, or fanfiction; whatever you guys want to call it. I've decided to make it into parts, though I'm not entirely sure how many there will be. Everything written is completely head canon and isn't in anyway related to actual events. _

_Part one is based on the circumstances of Camus' birth. It gives a little background about his family, and since our lovely Ringo insisted that his name is Christopher Camus (one of my RP partner's on tumblr), I decided to purposely make it part of my head canon. Part one is approximately 6,354 words – 12 pages in pt. 12 font, Times New Roman. It's a bit on the lengthier side, but I'm pleased with how it came out. I attempted revising it, but I'm not sure how well I did with it. I'll make another attempt to go over it when my eyes aren't so tired – but until then, enjoy! All italicized words come from the Carpathian Language, as presented in Christine Feehan's _**Dark Series**_. I decided to use that language because, as we all know, Camus is a foreigner to japan, and wouldn't grow up with Japanese as a native language. I thought it would add a little spice to Camus' life._

* * *

Everyone knew who Camus was. He was a successful idol in a band called _**QUARTET**__**NIGHT**_; a strict, proud individual who proclaimed to hail from a mysterious placed called _'Permafrost'_. Whether such a place existed or not was unknown by the general public; however, if the subject were to be brought up to the Count, it would take a handful of hours before he'd be able to control himself long enough to drop it.

Those who knew Camus personally would agree that he was much too bossy for his own good, too cold and standoffish toward others to form any type of lasting bond, too aggressive, too egotistical; the man seemed to take everything and push it to the extreme, turning what most would consider good traits into things that become almost unbearable. Despite all that, however, those who had the fortunate pleasure of being close to Camus _(or as close as one could be with him anyway) _knew that the Count had a gentler side often hidden from view. He was ambitious, compassionate, willing to lend assistance should someone need it regardless of how much he may complain about it.

He was a man many knew _of_, but didn't know _about_. Besides knowing he came from a place called Permafrost, or the fact that he highly enjoyed tea time with accompanying sweets, cooler temperatures, and the Cello, no one really knew all that much about him. What had his past been like? How had he grown up? Did he have any siblings? Grandparents? Aunts or Uncles? They knew he had a dog, and that the Count was very fond of him, but did he own anything else? Did his family, who most assumed to be wealthy beyond limitations, own horses? Their own business? Had Camus been who he was since the day of his birth, or had a traumatic event taken place in his life? Changing him into the man they knew now.

Most were too overwhelmed by Camus' personality to bother with silly things such as that. They simply assumed that he was a man who grew up in a wealthy family; a pampered, spoiled prince who's every wish and demand was met eagerly by the many maids and butlers that worked in his family's large estate. While it was true that Camus did indeed hail from a wealthy, noble family, the details of his upbringing were clouded by assumptions and fairy tale happenings; though for the sake of not drawing attention to himself, the Count made no move to correct it.


	2. Coming of the Storm

Suzanna Aragon, wife of Jacques Camus, screamed loudly as the pain of her contractions ravaged her fragile body. A fine sheen of sweat coated her pale skin, mixing with the salty tears that fell from her crystal blue eyes as she gazed helplessly down at her swollen belly. Luminous blond hair, a color that would make the sun's rays shy away in embarrassment, fanned out around her - blanketing the feathery pillow that cradled her head in luscious waves. There was too much pain. Something wasn't right. Instinctively she knew it, and she tried to voice out her fears but was unable to. Her baby would die. She would die. Where was the midwife? Where was her husband?

"_Emä (mother) _…"

The pregnant woman turned her head to the side to take in the form of her eldest daughter, a forced smile finding its way to her beautiful face in an attempted to calm the young girl's nerves. Rhiannon clasped her mother's frail hand gently; large, expressive blue eyes filling with tears at the sight of the older woman writhing in pain upon her bed. She flinched visibly as her mother cried out once more, the woman's free hand rushing down to hold her swollen belly as if the motion would keep the baby from leaving the protection of the womb. Rhiannon suppressed a sob as she watched the veins pop out on her mother's neck, ignoring the pain in her hand from where Suzanna was crushing it. The mother laid in a gasping heap once the contraction subsided, her worry only escalating when she realized the time between them was growing shorter.

"Do not fret, _csitri (little one)_," Suzanna said a few moments later, trying her best to console her child despite the situation, "everything will be fine. Christopher and I will be fine."

"Christopher? Is that the name you've decided? How do you know the _csecsemõ (baby) _is a boy?"

Rhiannon relaxed slightly at the sound of her mother's breathy laugh, her petite body trembling at all the intense emotions raging inside of her. She was only a girl of 13 years; she was much too young to know about the pain of giving birth, too inexperienced to do anything but stay by her mother's side as a seemingly unbearable pain raked through her. Rhiannon wanted to cry, to run far away from the room and never look back – but her mother's lost expression kept her rooted in place. If she had the ability to at least ease some of her mother's tension then she would do it, regardless of how much the experience was traumatizing her. She knew, despite her young age, that this pregnancy was different from the others Suzanna had gone through. Never before had she seen her mother in so much pain, not even when the twins were born five summers before. Swallowing down a lump that had formed in her throat, she briefly released Suzanna's hand in order to dab a damp cloth that sat in a small bowl of water on the bedside table across the woman's sticky skin.

"When you've had as many children as I, _csitri (little one), _a mother's intuition is sure to grow," despite the pain she was in, Suzanna's eyes soften fondly at Rhiannon – a weak, trembling hand reaching up to brush a strand of her daughter's snow white hair out of her face from where it had fallen out of place, "he kicks and fuses much like Gregori did when he was in the womb."

"I was hoping to have another _sisar (sister)_. There are too many boys in the house as it is. Celeste and I are already at our wits end with them! Did you know that Julian threw her doll into the pond? He snatched it right out of her hand, he did! Tossed it right into the deep part too - where we aren't allowed to swim. Celeste cried for days after that. Do you remember? We weren't allowed to tell you. Julian said if we tattled, he'd cut off all our hair when we were asleep."

Suzanna laughed weakly at Rhiannon's indignity before whimpering a few seconds later when another contraction racked through her relentlessly. Rhiannon's lips clamped tightly together as she watched her mother, a feeling of such utter helplessness taking over that it took everything the girl had not to cry out with Suzanna. Intense worry prickled at the forefront of the young girl's mind when she realized this particular contraction seemed to take a longer time to run its course than the ones before it. When Suzanna had settled down, her breathing labored and wheezing, Rhiannon gently wiped the perspiration off her head once more before laying the cloth back in its bowl when she had finished.

"Yes, I remember that. I had to sew your sister a new doll. It wasn't until I had given it to her that I finally understood what had happened. I thought she simply lost it while playing in the forest. You children always liked it in there, especially your brother's."

Her voice was becoming weaker and more labored – it took more energy to speak than Suzanna had originally thought. Panting, she turned her head to look out the large, arched window, concern for the well-being of her husband adding to the already overwhelming emotions she was experiencing when she realized the blizzard was still raging at full strength. He had left some hours ago to go fetch the midwife when Suzanna's contractions first began, and had yet to return. Gregori, her eldest child, had pleaded with his mother to go out and search for them, but Suzanna had denied it by saying it was much too dangerous for him to wander out on his own.

"_Isä (father) _should have been here by now …" Rhiannon's voice was but a whisper as she gazed out the window with her mother, both women's thoughts going out to the man who had cared and supported all of them for so many years.

"He probably just got caught up in the storm. I hope he'd have enough sense to wait it out rather than try to return home."

"But _Emä (mother)-!" _

"It's alright," Suzanna turned her attention back to her daughter, "there's nothing to worry about _csitri (little one). _Now go find your siblings and wait with them. It'll be a while yet before it is time for Christopher to come out and greet us."

At first Rhiannon was reluctant to leave her mother's side, but with a few more encouraging words from Suzanna, she pushed herself up out of the chair she was resting in and made her way out of the room. She closed the door behind her softly, trying to make as little noise as possible, before turning down the hall in search of her siblings. The Camus Family lived in a large, three-storied manor house out in the country; their grounds spreading out far and wide in all directions, isolating the family from even their closest neighbors. Although Permafrost wasn't a particularly large country, the economy was strong and rich – creating many wealthy families and providing them with large amounts of land. The Camus Family in general was a widely known, noble lineage. They were the nobles of nobles, royalty outside the royal family. They had produced more heirs to the throne than any other noble family had in all the years since their forming, and was event thought to be wealthier than the queen!

Rhiannon herself was selected by the palace to become the next Queen of Permafrost. The current monarch, a cold, cunning woman of many years, had lost favor with her subjects after an unsightly episode with one of her servants. The man had brought in an electronic music player from the outside world _(the term that was used to reference anything outside of Permafrost) _and had him hung in public for bringing such a thing into the Palace. The Queen was a very superstitious woman, and disliked change almost as greatly as she disliked the summer months. She lived in the past, liked the medieval way of doing things – all the modernization that had taken place in the world was carefully sanctioned and kept at bay; it took the people almost a decade to persuade her to allow the installation of light bulbs and electricity into their residential homes.

A large staircase soon came into view, and Rhiannon took the steps two at a time in order to reach the ground floor quicker. She scurried hastily across the marble foyer to the drawing room off to the side, slipping inside to find all five of her siblings already there sporting the same solemn looks. The room was large and elegant, warmed by the raging fire that burned brightly in the hearth. Five pairs of eyes turned in her direction at the sound of the door closing, the silence so thick Rhiannon was sure if she got a knife she'd be able to slice right through it.

"How is _Emä (mother)?"_

"Is she alright?"

The twins, Celeste and Julian, both five years old, jumped off the couch and rushed to her side; their large eyes looking up to her with worry and a childlike innocence that nearly broke her heart. Dominic, only three years younger than herself, moved from his spot in a large chair to inquire about the health of their mother as well. Byron, the second eldest child of Suzanna and Jacques, stood silently at Gregori's side by the window - his attention turning to his younger sister in order to hear what she had to say.

"She's growing weaker, and she's nearly lost all color to her skin. The labor is taking a great toll on her. I'm afraid that if it keeps up, she'll-"

Rhiannon stopped short, refusing to say what was on her mind. The twins merely shot her curious stares, too young to know what she meant by the cut off. Dominic understood completely though, his skin turning cold as the news registered in his mind. Everyone jumped at the sudden banging sound that ricocheted around the room, their attention instantly being drawn to Gregori. His handsome face was twisted in pain, blood dripping from a cut on his hand he had received when he slammed his fist into the side of a book case. Celeste and Julian instinctively cowered behind Rhiannon; Dominic moving slightly behind her as well while Byron took a few steps back from his brother.

"She'll what!?" Rhiannon flinched visibly at the tone Gregori inflicted at her, wanting to take a step back but unable to due to the twins clinging to her legs.

"Tell me little _sisar (sister)_! If things keep as they are, what do you suppose will happen to _Emä (mother)?"_

She didn't know what was worse – being in a room with an enraged Gregori, or being in the room with her writhing mother. The young girl tried to look unintimidated, but with the burning glare of Gregori's burgundy eyes on her she couldn't help but to shrink back.

"She'll- Her and the _csecsemõ (baby) _will die …"

Her and her younger siblings whimpered softly at Gregori's enraged roar. Instinctively, Byron stepped between them and the eldest, becoming like a barrier protecting his younger siblings from the wrath of an angry god. Rhiannon couldn't really place blame on the way Gregori reacted to the information. He was their mother's first child – and as such, the two were extremely close. He had grown up with her tender love and care for all 20 years of his life, and even became exceedingly jealous when Suzanna had Byron when he was three. Everyone knew that Gregori held a particular loathing for his siblings, and it only grew worse when they found out Suzanna was once again with child.

_"Ekä (brother) _is scaring me …"

Celeste's small voice trembled as she spoke her fear; her small body pressing tightly against Rhiannon's legs as if to hide. Julian mutely nodded in agreement, copying the motions of his twin as Dominic took hold of the top part of his older sister's skirt. The group watched silently as Byron tried to calm Gregori down with a few whispered words, eliciting only a feral snarl from the older boy before he pushed Byron aside and stormed out of the room. Everyone let out a breath they hadn't realized they'd been holding once Gregori was out of sight; Byron wearily moving over to the couch to take a much needed seat a few moments later.

"_Ekä (brother) _…"

Rhiannon moved to Byron's side, sliding into the space next to him and laying her head on his shoulder; the twins and Dominic instantly following after her. Dominic took a seat next to his sister as Julian climbed into his lap while Celeste climbed into Rhiannon's. The siblings sat there in silence for a long while, comforting each other in a way only family could as the blizzard continued to rage relentlessly outside.

A piercing scream ripped through the eerie silence that had befallen the manor. Suzanna cried and groaned as another contraction racked through her worn body. The pain was endless. Why was it like this? It wasn't supposed to be like this! Her baby was in danger. Christopher! She couldn't wait for the midwife any longer; she had held out for as long as she possibly could. It wasn't safe to deliver the baby; she knew instinctively that she had to put it off for as long as she possibly could … but she didn't have any more time.

"Christopher, my little one, please hear me. You mustn't come out yet. It is not safe. Something is wrong, but I do not know what."

Suzanna cried out again as a contraction hit her, causing her body to spasm and writhe at the intensity. She couldn't stay on the bed any longer – she had to get to the bath. Her body was weak and trembling, but as soon as the pain lifted she used her elbows to push herself up. Her gown was a constricting restraint; she wanted desperately to remove the garment but was unable to do so. Clenching her teeth, she painfully slide her feet over the side of the bed and push herself into a sitting position. One hand moved to cradle her swollen abdomen as the other kept her propped upright.

"Alright, it's okay. We can do this. Just wait a bit longer, little one. Just a bit longer."

She didn't know how she managed to do it, but somehow she had rose to her feet and was hobbling across the bedchamber to the bathroom. Just as she reached the door, a painful spasm ricocheted through her body. She thought she was going to be sick as she leaned heavily against the door frame, holding her belly with one hand as the other held tightly to the wall to keep her knees from buckling under her. Just a few steps further and she'd reach the bath. Pushing through the pain, she stumbled over to the side of the tub and carefully sank to her knees – her cries echoing loudly around her. With a shaking hand, she reached out to turn the knob of the faucet, watching as the water poured out and began filling the tub. She made sure that the water wasn't too hot, but wasn't too cold either - waiting until the liquid filled the tub halfway before shutting the water off.

"Just a little more. We can do this, Christopher. Just bear with me now, okay?"

Slipping off her gown, Suzanna once again pushed herself to her feet. Using the side of the tub as a form of leverage, she uneasily lifted one foot over the edge of the tub – followed by the other – and placed them into the warm water. She was glad Jacques had insisted on getting a tub with foot grips on the bottom; if there was nothing there, she was sure she would have slipped and fallen by now. The pregnant woman slowly lowered herself into the tub, relaxing slightly as the warm liquid helped relaxed her far too tense muscles.

"Jacques, where are you? Please hurry, something is dreadfully wrong."

As if to answer her plea, the door to the bedchamber flew open. A fresh wave of tears fell down her face and a she choked on a sob as her crystal blue eyes took in the frantic form of her husband. He was drenched, and his skin had taken on a bluish hue from the cold of the storm. He looked around frantically for his laboring wife; relief flooding through him when he caught sight of her in the tub.

"_Sívamet (my love)_!"

His long, chocolate hair had fallen out of its tie, causing the dark locks to appear haphazard and wild. Forest green eyes ran over Suzanna's nude form for a split second, before he finally gathered his senses together and hastily made his way to her side.

"_Sívamet (my love)_, forgive me for leaving you alone in your time of need. The storm is stronger than I had originally thought. It kept me from calling on Marie."

"No, do not apologize. I'm just glad to see you well."

Jacques took her smaller hand into his own, clasping it tightly and holding it close to his chest. How had she managed to get here by herself? His children were conjugated in the drawing room, and Gregori had met him in the foyer when he had arrived. He reached out to brush her fine hair away from her face, leaning forward to press an affectionate kiss to her temple. A few seconds later, Marie, the midwife, hustled into the room; instantly shooing Jacques away so she could assess Suzanna.

"Marie!" Her voice cracked with fear when her eyes landed on the older woman, "There is something terribly wrong! There is too much pain. Don't let my _csecsemõ (baby) _die! Please, you must save him!"

"Hush child and let me do my job. I promise that nothing will happen to the _csecsemõ (baby)_. Just concentrate on breathing. You know how – we've done this many times before."

With a professionalism only obtained through years of practice, Marie began checking on the condition of her patient. Her warm, wrinkled hands glided over Suzanna's belly gently before helping the woman spread her legs apart and prop them up on the sides of the tub. She peered down into the hidden crevice between Suzanna's legs, frowning in disapproval to herself.

"This will be unpleasant, but bear with me."

Suzanna's head fell back and she groaned loudly as the midwife pushed her fingers into her opening. Marie could feel the baby, it was low and ready to come out, but something wasn't right. Pressing her fingers further inside, she tried to discern the cause of her worry – and soon sucked in a breath of air when she realized what it was.

"The umbilical cord is wrapped around him."

"What? Can't you do something?"

Suzanna's voice raised a few octaves higher at what she had been told, her panic escalating as her mind told her what would happen to her child should she give birth. Marie pulled her fingers out, a solemn expression on her face as she regarded the mother sadly.

"You are too far in the labor. There is nothing I can do for him until he leaves the womb. Let us pray the cord isn't in a hazardous position."

Jacques looked from his sobbing wife to Marie, Suzanna's grief and panic only fueling his own. He didn't understand at all what the midwife was saying, but he knew by the women's reactions that it wasn't good.

"Is there anything I can do to assist?"

"No you fool! You'll just be in the way. Get! Send Rhiannon in here with a stack of towels. I will need her when the time comes to tend to the _csecsemõ (baby)_."

Taken aback by the old woman's harsh words, Jacques stiffly nodded before turning and leaving the room in search of his eldest daughter. Once the man had left, Marie turned back to Suzanna and ran a soothing hand through the woman's sticky hair.

"I've helped birth all six of your children, and now I have the pleasure of helping with a seventh. Do not fret, Suzanna, have faith in me. I will not let an end come to this babe before he even gets the pleasure of meeting his wonderful mother."

"Oh, Marie. Thank you. Thank you."

Rhiannon arrived some time later carrying the towels the midwife had instructed be brought; her pretty face pale and uncertain as she stepped to her mother's side. This would be the first time she'd be present during a birth, and she hoped she wouldn't be in the midwife's way. Marie barked out a few commands to the girl as the final contractions began, while Suzanna tried to force down the screams that wanted to be let lose in consideration for her daughter. Jacques hovered protectively at the entrance to the bathroom, not daring to enter in fear of the midwife's wrath, but refusing to leave Suzanna's side. No one paid him any mind, however – they were too focused on trying to safely deliver the woman's child.

"That's it, you're doing wonderful. I can see the top of his head. Just a little more and he'll be out."

Suzanna rested heavily against the back of the tub, her chest moving up and down quickly as she tried to catch her breath. There was so much pain she was beginning to see stars. Her baby. Her Christopher. She prayed that he would be okay, that his life wouldn't be put in jeopardy due to this unfortunate occurrence; however, the knowledge that Marie was the one seeing to him greatly aided in calming her nerves. If the the elder woman was there, surely he would be fine. She was the most experienced midwife in the country – no one else delivered as many babies safely as she did. The time for the final push was now. A sob caught in her throat as pain ravaged her, tore into her. How happy she would be when this was finally over – when she got the chance to hold her newborn son for the first time.

"Now Suzanna! Push!"

This time she couldn't hold back her scream. The sound blasted from her lips as she pushed; the infant sliding out of her birthing canal only to be caught in the waiting hands of Marie. As she had foretold, the umbilical cord had been wound tightly around Christopher's body. It pinned his little arms to his side, wrapped tightly around his ankles and wrists and neck. Marie worked quickly to free him from the restraints, but Suzanna had already been casted into a panicked haze when she didn't hear the telltale sign of his first cry.

"Christopher! Is he alright? Tell me he's alright! Let me see him! Give him to me!"

Marie shouted for Jacques, commanding him to restrain his bucking wife so that she could tend to the breathless child. Rhiannon merely slumped against the wall out of the way of everything, her blue eyes locked onto the baby who wasn't even twitching. Tears welled up in her eyes at the sight of it all – her mother crying, cursing, thrashing around trying to get to the baby, while her father held her back as Marie tried to revive it. Her hands came up to her face, covering her mouth as if the motion might stop the sobs that had begun to push out.

And then, like a miracle, a gurgled cry resounded throughout the room. Everyone went quiet as if they couldn't believe what they just heard. Soon another cry, stronger and louder than the first, was ripped from the baby's tiny body. Now Rhiannon was crying for an entirely different reason. Suzanna sobbed in relief, holding on tightly to her husband as if he were the only anchor keeping her grounded. Marie stood up, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around the baby, motioning for Rhiannon to help her fix him up so that his mother could see him. For the first time that night, Rhiannon was happy. She rushed to the older woman's side to aid her, doing exactly as she was told.

"Marie! Come quick! It's Suzanna!"

The midwife quickly pushed the baby into Rhiannon's arms before rushing back to her patient's side, her eyes widening in horror at what she found.

"Dear god-"

Blood had stained the water crimson. Suzanna gasped in pain, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as blood rushed out of her and into the tub. Once again the night was thrown into chaos. Rhiannon stood motionless with Christopher in her arms, going into shock at what she was seeing. Jacques scooped Suzanna out of the tub, blood falling like a waterfall onto the tiled surface of the bathroom, and all but ran to put her on the bed in their room. Marie followed closely behind, shouting out orders that Rhiannon's ears failed to register. Christopher began wailing loudly in her arms as if sensing what was happening around him, the danger that his mother was in.

"Hurry! Bring me fresh towels! We have to stop the bleeding-!"

"No."

All eyes turned to Suzanna, who was looking longingly at the baby in Rhiannon's arms. A soft smile found its way to her pale, almost translucent face as she took in the wailing form of her infant.

"It is too late for me. I can feel it. Bring Christopher to me, _csitri (little one); _let me see his face at least once."

Almost robotically, Rhiannon moved to her mother's side. Jacques helped the dying woman sit up, and then helped her hold Christopher when he was handed to her. Hot, burning tears welled up in Rhiannon's eyes as she watched her mother look down so fondly at the new born babe. Had her mother looked at her like that when she was born? For the first time in her life, she completely understood Gregori's loathing for his siblings. Knowing she couldn't do anything more for Suzanna, Marie took a step back - allowing the family what little time they had left together.

"I'm glad you are safe. You had me worried there for a little while."

Suzanna's voice had taken on a wispy quality as the all the strength she had left slowly dissolved. Sorrow welled up in her breast as she looked upon the infant with infinite affection. Unlike her other children, she would be able to nurse him, watch him grow. A sharp pang assaulted her heart as she thought about how he'd grow up not knowing her. Would the rest of her family tell him stories about his mother? Would he know her as the rest of her children did, even though they never truly met?

"Make sure to grow up into a respectable man, Christopher. Get along well with your siblings, and mind your _Isä (father) - _even though he can be a bit of a stiff sometimes. Take your studies seriously, and learn to love this cold land as much as I did. You'll do fine without me; but always remember, no matter where I might end up in the next life, I'll be watching over you – all of you. I love you all so much."

The dying mother began to experience something like tunnel vision in her eyes, and her arms nearly gave out on her. Jacques quickly took hold of the baby and all but shoved him into Rhiannon's arms, wanting the infant out of his way as he desperately tried to keep his wife's attention on him. Suzanna barely paid him any mine, her attention instead seeking her daughter with an unspeakable urgency.

"_Csitri (little one),_" in the blink of an eye, Rhiannon had sat on the edge of the bed beside her mother, half wanting to move away again once she caught sight of her father's disapproving glower. Suzanna quickly drew her daughter's eyes to back to her, keeping her in place despite Jacques hostile aura.

"Take care of him in my stead. You are the gentlest of my children; I know you will not fail me at this. Tell your siblings that I love them so very much, and that I thank them for showing me so much love in this lifetime. Gregori will not understand, so try to be patient and be there for him. He's a delicate soul even if it doesn't seem like it at times. Thank you, Rhiannon,_ Csitri (little one), _for being here with me during this ordeal. I know how much pain it must have brought you."

"_Emä (mother) _…"

The young girl choked on a sob, trying her hardest to hold back her tears. It was true, her mother was really dying. Her sweet, wonderful, bright, loving mother was _dying_. She couldn't wrap her head around it, or rather refused to understand it. What was she to do if she didn't have her mother anymore? Who would tuck her into bed, read the twins stories, help Dominic with his studies, ride the fields with Byron, protect her children from Gregori's intense jealousy? Who would raise Christopher and teach him about the joys life could bring? And most importantly, what would her father do without this gentle woman at his side?

"_Emä (mother)_! No-!"

"Hush c_sitri (little one), _all will be fine."

Rhiannon would never forget the sound of the last breath her mother ever took leaving her lungs, nor would she forget the pained roar that was wrenched from her father as the only woman he had ever loved went limp in his arms. The once proud, unbreakable man rocked his wife's lifeless body back and forth, sobbing and all but shoving his whimpering daughter away.

"Go! Leave us, child! Take that wretched thing with you and go!"

Rhiannon was too stunned to do much more than stare absently at the pale face of her mother. She looked like she was just sleeping, except no air went into her lungs and all the color that had once been painted on her skin had been wiped away.

"Are you hard of hearing girl? I said go! Now! Before I do something I might regret in the future!"

Marie quickly urged the girl out of the room, murmuring soft reassurances to her as she sent her on her way. It would be a few years before Rhiannon could look back on this event with a clear mind, and when she did she would remember the smile that had adorned her mother's face like a beautiful decoration - even in death.

"Hurry child, go! I fear your _Isä (father)_ is not in his right mind. I will come to you later, for now take care of the _csecsemõ (baby) _and tend to your siblings. You are the woman of the house now, the heir to the throne. It is time to start acting like a respectable lady should."

Marie shut the door in Rhiannon's face, closing the girl off from all the sadness and death that resided in the once warm and pleasant bedchamber. Numb and without feeling, she dragged her feet down the hall, moving to go back to the drawing room with her infant brother sleeping soundly in her arms. How could he sleep without a care like that? After their mother had just died giving birth to him? She felt a wave of resentment rush through her, surprising her at its intensity. It wasn't fair he got to be oblivious to it all while she suffered.

The moment she walked into the room, all eyes turned to her and Christopher. She couldn't meet their eyes; their hopeful, questioning gazes willing her to tell them good news. Biting her bottom lip, she simply shook her head – clinging as much to the baby in her arms as it was to her blouse.

"She's dead then …"

Gregori lowered his head, his now wrapped and treated hand clenched in to a tight fist. The twin's looked at the grief-stricken faces of their older siblings, not knowing exactly what was going on but able to feel the dread in the air. Celeste, the most sensitive of them all, burst out into tears without really knowing why – Julian following suit a moment later. Byron wrapped the two protectively in his arms, allowing the small children to cry into his shoulder as he held back his own tears. Dominic silently moved to Rhiannon's side, gazing misty eyed down at the sleeping babe she held gently to her breast.

"This is Christopher," she whispered to him, "our new_ ekä (brother)-_"

"Give him to me."

Rhiannon jumped back as Gregori crossed the room in a few, quick steps, stopping to hover directly over her with his hand held outwards in an aggressive manner.

"Give that _thing _to me right now!"

"What-" She took another step back, a sudden protectiveness springing up in her chest at the murderous intent she found in her brother's eyes, "what are you talking about Gregori? He isn't a _thing_! His name is Christopher – our _ekä (brother)_! What do you plan to do with him if I hand him over?"

_"_He is no_ ekä (brother) _of mine,_ sisar (sister)_. That thing murdered our _Emä (mother)_! I will do to that thing what he did to her!"

Gregori lunged forward to grab Christopher from her arms, but Rhiannon was faster. She hastily darted away, nearly tripping over her skirt in the process. Byron pushed the twins away and jumped to his feet, instantly restraining his struggling brother as Dominic quickly planted his body between him and Rhiannon.

"You dare to defy me, _sisar (sister)_? You would protect that thing who shamelessly murdered _Emä (mother)_? Do you mean to go against me?"

Her body trembled violently as she backed away, nearly jumping out of her skin when her shoulder hit the wall. She held Christopher close, trying to shield him from Gregori's malice. All at once she felt ashamed for placing blame on him for what had happened. It wasn't his fault; it wasn't anyone's fault. She remembered her mother's words regarding Gregori, and she sent up a silent prayer asking for forgiveness for betraying the woman already. There was no way she'd be able to be patient with this uncontrollable man. If she wanted to keep Christopher safe, she had to forsake Gregori. Taking a deep breath, she jutted her chin out and pushed herself to her full height – blue eyes glaring straight back into inflamed burgundy ones.

"Yes_ ekä (brother), _I mean it."

Gregori snarled, shoving Byron away as he turned and stormed out of the room. There was no way he would let things end this way. One way or another he'd get his revenge; he just had to be patient until the opportunity came. Once he had left the room, Rhiannon cried out and slid to the floor; curling her body around Christopher, who continued to sleep as if nothing had happened. Byron went back to comforting the twins as Dominic moved to sit beside Rhiannon, burying his face against the side of her shoulder in an attempt at consoling them both. Though no one said anything, the same thought passed through their minds.

A storm was coming, and it would be big.


End file.
